Extract from my novel
Becoming Maz
Maybe
the journey isn’t so much about becoming anything. Maybe it’s about un-becoming
everything that really isn’t you, so you can be who you were meant to be in the
first place.
Paulo
Coelho
Chapter
1: Becoming Marion
Doris has
been waiting for seven long years. She knows this child is a girl. She will be
Marion, ‘wished for child’. She will love Marion and Marion will love her.
Marion will keep Joe in England, in Wolverhampton. She will be his pride and
joy. He will want the best for her: a good education so she can be a doctor or
a teacher. She won’t walk to school barefoot carrying her shoes, so they don’t
wear out or leave at thirteen to work in muddy Irish fields, fetching and
carrying for everyone. Doris is sure that this is one battle his mammy, Margaret
Mary won’t win.
“Why does the witch call you Joe? What’s wrong with Paddy?” Doris
had heard her say shortly after they had married.
Joe had been defiant then. “England is a new start, mammy. I gave
my full name at work and the men called me Joe, so I told Doris that was my
name.”
Sniffing loudly, she’d replied, “Well, I’ll not call you that!
You’re my Paddy and always will be and she needs to call me mammy! Is she
ashamed of me? Am I not good enough for her? Calling me Margaret! Who does she
think she is?” She’d paused, “What have you done Paddy?”
Joe had muttered something
about having a word about calling her ‘mammy’ but he had never mentioned this
to Doris.
After seven years with no signs of a baby, Doris witnessed Joe’s
slow surrender to mammy, and there were arguments about buying a shop just
outside of Dublin. Joe’s brother, James, came over from Ireland for St
Patrick’s Day which Doris thought was odd but, getting used to strange Irish
ways, she prepared the spare bed. Margaret Mary pointed out that James’s Irish
wife, Nora, had no trouble having babies. Apparently, Nora had been a virgin
when her first child, Immaculata, had been born and the midwife had to cut her
hymen to deliver the baby. James related this miracle matter-of-factly to
anyone who would listen. Doris did not repeat this to her family or friends.
One evening when Joe was in the toilet down the yard, James
pressed Doris against the living room wall and asked her if she’d like to have
sexual intercourse with him. His big red face was too close, sweat glistened on
his upper lip, spit drooled down his chin and his bright, mad eyes leered at
her. She was horrified. Taking her silence for consent he started to pant, and
she felt his stale breath on her neck. “I’ll get the old fool drunk and he’ll soon
be snoring away then we’ll let the monkey see the rabbit!” Shaking with
laughter, James continued, “Your babby will be sucking at those titties this
time next year.” His hot little hands squeezed her breasts.
Doris pushed him away with all her strength, yelling, “Don’t be
stupid James. Get away from me.”
Muttering about not being welcome here and going to stay with
mammy, James threw his coat on and left.
When Doris told Joe he insisted she had taken it the wrong way,
“You English are a right miserable lot,” he said. “Can’t you take a joke?”
Margaret Mary chose
the next evening to call round just as Joe was shouting, “You’re mad woman!
What would James want with you? Sure
hasn’t he his own missus who has no problem dropping out babbies?”
Smirking she put
her arm around Joe. “We’ll have that deposit soon enough and then the shop is
ours.”
Doris knew she had
to take action.
A week later she told
Joe she had been to see a doctor to discuss her inability to conceive and it
had been decided she would have her tubes flushed in hospital. That night they
made love for the first time in weeks.
The hospital
appointment arrived three months later, two days after a doctor had confirmed
she was indeed pregnant. A delighted Joe took her out with mammy. Margaret Mary
was sipping her pint noisily and talking about going home for a holiday in the
summer when Joe told her the wonderful news. Doris tried not to gloat as his
mammy’s face changed. Her jaw dropped, her eyes narrowed, and she looked old.
Margaret Mary quickly regained her composure, turning the corners of her mouth
up into a smile, but her penetrating stare left Doris with a deep sense of
unease.
“Well, aren’t you
the great girl then!” she simpered. “Paddy the daddy!”
Joe found this very
amusing and was unable to stop laughing for several minutes during which time
Margaret Mary continued to stare at Doris. As Doris had predicted, Joe
announced, “This babby will need a good education that only England can
provide.” There was no more talk of a return to Ireland or buying shops and his
mammy stomped home shortly after, the empty pint glass stashed in her handbag.
Comments
Post a Comment